


Masquerade of Living

by starwarned



Series: Fictober 2020 [13]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: Fictober, Fictober 2020, I'm so sorry, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:40:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27004447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starwarned/pseuds/starwarned
Summary: Fictober Day 13Prompt: "the fearless flight" (Oscar Wilde)Simon lays at the bottom of a ditch until Baz finds him.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch & Simon Snow, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Series: Fictober 2020 [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1951321
Comments: 8
Kudos: 48





	Masquerade of Living

**Author's Note:**

> IMPLIED major character death. i'm so sorry. i'm so sorry. 
> 
> prompt is from [this list](https://drawingdawnart.tumblr.com/post/629280324527013888/some-of-my-artists-friends-and-i-felt-like-we) on tumblr

Simon has royally fucked up. 

He thinks this while lying at the bottom of a ditch, unsure if his legs are still attached to his body. He can’t even muster up the strength to lift his head to check. 

The sound of someone crying rings out clear and Simon flinches when it hits his ears. It sounds like Penny. 

He shouldn’t have pushed himself this far. If Simon had recognized that he was at the edge of his limit, he could have saved his friends unimaginable pain and suffering, not to mention keep himself from dying alone in a ditch. 

There’s so much pain flaring through Simon’s body that he’s not sure what to focus on most. He’s surprised he hasn’t passed out yet. His wings feel broken underneath him and there’s a sharp enough pain in his hip that leads him to believe he might be missing a leg. 

Simon’s eyes start to close. He’d always thought he’d die in a blaze of glory, at the hands of T. Basilton Grimm Pitch or the Humdrum, and Penny would hold him until his dying breath. 

Penny might be dead. He’s not sure. 

“Simon!” A voice echoes loudly, forcing Simon’s eyes to flick open. 

He opens his mouth in an attempt to form a response, but his jaw cracks and he lets out a groan of discomfort. He’s not sure he has the ability to form sound. 

He shuts his eyes again and waits for something to happen to him - someone discovering him, passing out, death. 

“Simon!” Someone calls again, the voice louder this time. Every available synapse in Simon’s brain fires and he tries to identify the voice. 

_ Baz _ . 

Simon thinks he might be crying. 

He’s vaguely aware of someone shouting his name again, but his eyes have closed and he can’t afford the energy needed to open them. His head is held up by familiar hands. 

“ _ Baz _ ,” Simon whispers. He still can’t open his eyes but he doesn’t need to. 

“Simon,” Baz says back, his voice cracking and wrecked. 

Simon doesn’t have to see Baz - he knows what he looks like right now. Shirt torn in multiple places, hair disheveled, fangs bared, blood that may or may not be his soaked into the fabric of his trousers. Simon had gotten a really good look at Baz before he’d landed in the fucking ditch. 

Simon almost wishes Baz wasn’t around so he didn’t have to think about how this is all Simon’s fault. 

They’d been attacked by harpies. Wrong place, wrong time. Just Simon’s luck. If Simon had just let Penelope do the talking or let Baz get out of the grip of the harpies himself, Baz wouldn’t be hurt. Simon, instead, had done the heroically idiotic thing he  _ always does  _ and made it a fight-first-talk-later issue. 

They never get to the talk phase. Unless you count Baz, right now, mumbling under his breath. 

“Come on, Simon,” Baz says, brushing Simon’s hair out of his face with cool and trembling fingers. “Stay here, darling. Open your eyes, please, look at me. Love, please.” His voice is soft and familiar but shaky and uncertain. Like he’s on the verge of a breakdown. Like he’s in pain.

Simon clenches his left hand and finally manages to open his eyes. Baz’s grey ones swim into his vision and when Simon recognizes that Baz is crying, his chest aches and he heaves out a dry sob. 

Simon doesn’t regret it. He doesn’t regret calling the Sword of Mages and slicing the head off the harpy nearest to Baz. Better to have saved the love of his life than to have saved himself. Better to have tried and failed than to have not tried at all. 

“Simon,” Baz says again and Simon realizes his eyes have slid shut again. “You colossal moron, stay here.” 

Baz will be fine. Simon convinces himself of that. Baz has never needed him anyway - Simon’s always been the one hanging off of Baz’s heels and following him around in hopes that he’ll gain some sort of direction from it. Penelope will be fine. She and Baz like each other more than either of them will admit so Simon knows she’ll only be losing one friend. And even then, she has Shep. 

Simon doesn’t want to spend his last seconds thinking about Shep. He tries to focus on the sound of Baz’s voice, even if he’s not sure what he’s saying any longer. He feels Baz’s fingertips brush over his forehead and his cheek. 

_ I choose you, Baz _ . Simon can’t say it. He can’t do much more than think it. 

_ You chose me. You chose me and I choose you.  _


End file.
